Indecent Proposal
by Chriss Corkscrew
Summary: Post Season Eight. The ship has been saved but Rimmer and Lister feel singularly unappreciated, until their pasts catch up with them of course. Potential Rimmer/Lister romance.


Title:  Indecent Proposal 

Author:  Chriss Corkscrew

Copyright:  2003-02-01

Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters (but my birthday is coming up . . .  hint, hint).

This story follows the events of Red Dwarf Season Eight and the story 'Always Coca Cola (that saves the day)' in which the fizzy drink that hit Rimmer over the head in the final episode, burst open and cured the virus on the ship.  I originally wrote this story a year ago, but never got around to finishing it until now.  I hope you enjoy it!

Rimmer marched into the Captains office and, stamping his left foot down he gave the full Rimmer salute, after docking one loop for the Captain's adoration of a particularly vicious vending machine.  "You sent for me sir?"

"That's right Rimmer.  For an informal chat."  The Captain looked uncomfortable.  "Perhaps you'd like to sit down."

"Not at all sir," Rimmer's nostrils flared as he waited what was due for him, "No doubt you have decided to give me a medal for my services to the recent ship-wide catastrophe and as you know, medals are traditionally given standing up"

"You're not getting a medal, Rimmer."  The Captain growled, wondering if this was really worth all the trouble.  "People don't tend to get medals when things hit them over the head."

"That's simply not true sir.  What about Sir Isaac Newton?  An apple falls on his head and he gets praised for inventing gravity."

"Rimmer!" the Captain, now seriously annoyed spoke through clenched teeth.  "You are here because we are concerned about you."

"I wouldn't worry sir, just a mild concussion."

"Not about the can, Rimmer.  Sit down."  Watching Rimmer take a seat before him Hollister wondered how to handle this.  "I have read your report about the mirror universe."

"All of it?" Rimmer's voice squeaked.  "Even the bit with the nun, sorry, pardon."

"Yes, especially the bit with Sister Talia Garrett my dear friend and spiritual advisor."

"If it helps sir, it wasn't my fault.  How was I to know who she was?  I was overcome by lust.  It's not easy sir, being in prison.  Lying there knowing I'll never become an officer, never to pass that exam . . . ."

"Shut up Rimmer."  The Captain's patience was rapidly running out, "I meant, is there anything you'd like to tell me?  Get off your chest?"

"Well sir," Rimmer paused, "I do prefer brunettes."

"Rimmer!" Hollister slammed his hands down on the table.  "I meant ARE YOU GAY, RIMMER?"

"Gay, sir?" Rimmer was aghast.  "Me, sir?"

"You were straight in the mirror universe, Rimmer, and what's more you were horny as hell.  My psychiatrists tell me this could reflect the repression you feel about your sexuality in this reality.

"Forgive me for mentioning this," Rimmer spat, "But you're talking out of your rapidly-expanding big fat arse sir."

"Right, that's it." Hollister snapped.  "This informal chat is over.  I'll see you in tribunal."

*     *     *

The tribunal was well underway by the time Rimmer and Lister were brought up from Floor 13 to explain their actions during the recent near-destruction of Red Dwarf.  Rimmer had a sneaking suspicion that the laughable 'gay' theory might rear its ugly head again, but fortunately 'theoretical gayness' wasn't a court marshal offence as yet, so his long service medals ought to be safe.

Captain Hollister gave them a bright if curious smile and pretended to straighten the papers on the table in front of him, peeking every now and then over the top of the pile.

"Captain Hollister's in an unusually good mood," Rimmer side-spoke to Lister, "Did Willy Wonka die and leave him everything, or what?"

Lister smirked, "No room.  Not after he's had you for breakfast."

"Ha, ha."  Rimmer tried to think of a comeback, "Ha ha."  What did Lister know?  Rimmer had been to a mirror universe, nearly damn well saved Red Dwarf and gotten a snog into the bargain.  "Hollister is just going to debrief me, after my mission and all.  Like he does with all the senior officers."

"And you're looking forward to that?" Lister was incredulous.

"For some people," Rimmer forgot where he was and, turning from his best sucking-up and attentive stance, he faced Lister, "Debriefing does not mean taking off underpants.  Not that you would know that, being about as important to this ship as burnt out light bulbs, and about half as bright."

"For some people, people like me for instance," Lister leered at Rimmer, "Debriefing of the thong-removing sort is such a regular occurrence that debriefing of the mission completing sort doesn't actually happen due to my sleeping off the debriefing of the first sort.  Get it?"

"You're sex mad!" Rimmer cried out and shook his head.  "Poor, poor fool," he trailed off, and thought to himself, "Cor!"  Then, noticing how Hollister and his panel were regarding him and Lister he re-saluted them all crisply and snapped back to facing front, arm flailing madly long after the rest of him was still.

"Thank you Rimmer," Hollister's voice was drier than usual, "But we all remember how it goes."

"Yes sir," Rimmer finished his salute with an effeminate flap of his hands and saw that, as one, the panel of officers made 'mmmm' noises and noted something down with their ballpoint pens.  "Have I done something wrong?" he asked, confused.

"Just confirming what we already suspected Rimmer," Hollister maddeningly gave nothing away.

"Suspected, sir."  Rimmer gulped.  "Suspected what."

"Oh . . . you're not in trouble."

"Was my report not accurate?"

"I found it surprisingly accurate and informative.  I'd even go so far as to commend you for your diligence to duty and your near success in bringing back an antidote single-handed.

"Well what's this all about sir?  If you don't mind me asking."

"Yeah," Lister sniggered, "And how long are you going to stick on his sentence for it?"

"Shut up Lister," Hollister ground his teeth, "Actually it might reduce or even annul certain officers' sentences."

"Sir!," Rimmer's face lit up, "Am I to understand that in light of my brave and selfless actions−," Lister cleared his throat loudly, "−And something or other that Lister might have done," he waved his hand vaguely, "You might now be willing to waive the rest of our prison time?."

"No."  Hollister was impassive.  "But if certain facts come to light during this debriefing I might be willing to look more favourably on your case, both the crashing of JMC transport vehicle Star Bug and numerous infractions since your trial and subsequent imprisonment, and be compelled to release you immediately without criminal records outstanding."

"I could be an officer!" Rimmer cried out, cheeks aglow.

"I could . . .," Lister thought of all his favourite things, Krissie, sleeping, getting drunk and eating curry's, none of which had been denied him since he started dealing with Bob the Skutter, "Do stuff too," he finished uncertainly, "With Peterson!," he cried out and slapped an excited Rimmer on the back.  "What about Kriss, Kryten and the Cat?  Are they getting off too?"

"Unfortunately they are not affected by this particular . . . regulation."

"Regulation?  This isn't to do with the mirror universe and saving the ship, because you know they were there too."

"It is more about your other self in the mirror universe."  Hollister fiddled with his collar uncomfortably.  "Your other self, a direct reflection of yourself, who kissed Sister Talia Garrett."

"Rimmer, you stud," Lister sniggered, "And they say you never get nun."

"Shut up," Rimmer hissed out the side of his mouth.

"Nun spelt n-u-n!" Lister chortled, "Get it!."

"Yes I get it," Rimmer muttered to himself, "This from a man whose chat-up lines start and end with 'fancy a shag'."

"And of course," Hollister continued doggedly, ignoring the niggling argument in front of him, "Evidence taken from the hijacked Star Bug's dream recorder.  Evidence," he looked up at Lister who was staring back in horror, "That suggests that certain dreams make a certain hypothetical scenario between the officers known as David Lister and Arnold Rimmer less hypothetical and thus pertinent under the scrutiny of this panel."

"What evidence?" Rimmer looked at Lister, "What the smeg is going on?."

"It was just a dream, man!" Lister insisted frantically, "It didn't mean anything."

"On the contrary Lister.  You had erotic dreams about Rimmer here."

"WHAT!" Rimmer brayed, nostrils flared, "You dreamt that you and me were, well, giving it rizz?."

"No," cried Lister, "Not that.  We just kissed.  It was because I missed you, well, my Rimmer."

"Your.  Rimmer," one of the ladies on the panel said it out loud as she made notes on her pad.  "Mmm.  Interesting."

"You're twisting it!  I.  Am.  Not.  Gay."

"On the contrary Listy," recovered now, Rimmer gave a superior smile.  "It all fits.  Your love for Kochanski is a cover story, a mother fixation if you will."

"I wish I hadn't told you that now," Lister muttered, his face aflame.

"Yes well−"

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP!"  Hollister butted in, angry now.  "This is my parole hearing and I will not let you spoil it."

"Parole?"  Rimmer and Lister spoke together, bewildered.

"Yes parole.  Due to the realisation of your personal traumas this board has, in its wisdom, decided to offer you two parole on the condition that you undergo relationship therapy."

"Relationship therapy?  But everyone'll think we're gay, sir."

"Something to which all the evidence points.  The question is, gentlemen.  Are you willing to admit your repressed sexuality in return for your freedom?"

Lister and Rimmer looked at each other for a long moment, wary in thought.  They couldn't accept this offer.  They couldn't.  Could they?

Rimmer spoke first.  He stared strangely at his bunkmate and then, with deliberation, he cleared his throat, "Dave . . . ?"

The End . . . because I'm evil.


End file.
